


Of cats

by ApurricatingCat



Series: Road Trip AU [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApurricatingCat/pseuds/ApurricatingCat
Summary: Newt is a 40 cats kind of guy who has been on the road since graduating high school. Credence is stuck living with his mother and it's suffocating him.This is a collection of drabbles that can pretty much stand alone all in the same verse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [ this prompt](http://credence-newt.tumblr.com/post/153558606416/imagine-this-newtcredence-au-where-newt-is-a-warm) from [Credence-Newt](http://credence-newt.tumblr.com/). I thought it was way too cute not to write.

In a small city, run down, aging, stuck in a decade not its own, a boy named Credence lived with his mother. His adopted mother. They lived in a church, that was completely falling apart, in a way, it felt too similar to the way he felt about himself. The ceiling was leaking, the wood splintering. Nothing he did could keep it in working order for too long, and Mary Lou was far too eager to take her anger out on him for it. There was more, of course, things he wasn’t ready to admit to himself, but she could tell, he knew that she could tell. There had to be a reason he was kept on such a tight leash, and what reason could it be other than she knew what he was. It was suffocating, everything about the small town made him feel like he was drowning. Everyone knew everyone else’s secrets. Everyone made a point of spreading around the rumor’s they’d heard, and the ones surrounding Credence had grown crueler and louder in the past several years. He was dying here, scars on his back from Mary Lou’s belt, scars on his thighs and arms, self-inflicted. Despair and paranoia hanging over his head at all times, during every interaction, always feeling attacked, always feeling fear. The small town had its claws around his neck and he could feel them closing tighter every day. He didn’t know how much longer he could last.

 

Newton Scamander travelled around a lot. It was something he had always yearned to do. In high school he worked hard, saving everything he could to purchase and fix up a motorhome. For years he had passed the decrepit thing, parked alongside the road. It was everything he had ever wanted, and it was tangible proof of his travels. The outside bore stickers from the different places he had visited, while the inside bore memories. Strung along the walls were photos and drawings of different plants and animals he had seen along the way. At the front, near the stairwell, hung a map with pins methodically placed in each city he had gone to. He had collected more than pictures on the road, however. A few cats now called his trailer home as well. Most often basking in the patches of sun where it filtered in through his homemade curtains. They were several years old and it was starting to show. They were angry strays, abandoned alongside the road or found in shelters. He had managed to collect the most antisocial, often near feral cats. Many of them had been picked up as he drove through cities that still gave animals considered unadoptable a death sentence. He couldn’t help it, really. Usually he was able to get the cats comfortable and even happy to be around people in a matter of months, they were just in need of some love. Once they were to that point, he would adopt them out to those who needed them. He was good at knowing that kind of thing, able to easily tell which people and cats would do well together, help each other. There were a few that remained prickly and angry towards everyone except for Newt. These are the cats that currently hung around, dozing in the passenger seat, on the bed, on his armchair. Photos of his many cats were abundant, often covering photos of the sunrises he had collected over the past years.

Most evenings, when he stopped, he would set up a chair to enjoy the sky, the air. Sometimes, one of his cats would decide to come outside and sit with him, but for the most part they seemed more than content to stay inside. Inside was comfortable and safe, which was something that most of them had never gotten to experience before Newt had taken them in. Tonight seemed to be one of the nights that none of them had elected to join him outside, though one stood at the door looking at him, occasionally chirping to ask him to come back in, stretching it’s paw out and batting as though it would bring him in faster. It was right, of course.

He had parked off the road, a barrier keeping him a few feet from the edge of the cliff, overlooking the ocean. He was up early, always up early. The sunrise couldn’t keep him away. Sunsets are beautiful, but the beauty of a sunrise, especially one against the water was, in his opinion, unparalleled. The sun was rising now, bringing color to the grey sky and warming the frost off the earth. He leaned against the barrier and looked out at the water. He debated with himself to get his camera, but the risk of missing something incredible seemed too great a cost. The cat who had waited for him in the doorway the evening before rubbed against his ankles, today seemed a good day for it. Newt tore his gaze away from the sky and bent to pick her up. The cat purred, loud and rumbling. She arched into his touch and pushed her head against Newt’s chin before clawing her way up onto his shoulder. She leaned comfortably against the side of his face, her tail resting around his neck as a support she pretended not to need. “Glad you decided to join me, Pickett.” Newt teased, brushing his fingers through her fur. She purred louder and made herself more comfortable on his shoulder, eyes partially shut, resting her weight against him. Newt huffed a soft laugh, taking care not to disturb her too much and looked back over the water. The sun was beginning to reflect against it, golden light getting caught in the waves.

Moment’s like these were the moments that Newt lived for. They took his breath away. These moments reminded him that he was alive. He could feel himself living. The weight, the pressure, all of the guilt’s that he felt weighing on his shoulders were all lifted—and, if only for a moment, he could breathe again. In this light everything was fresh, clean, and incredible. The world was pristine.

The sun rose higher. The golden glow was warm against Newt’s skin. He closed his eyes for a moment against the brightness of it all. Pickett remained pressed against his cheek, her claws kneading gently into the thick fabric of his coat. He blinked his eyes open and adjusted his glasses, slipping down his nose, “Ready to go, Pickett?” the small cat chirped quietly, the sound muffled by her fur. He smiled and turned his face, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, “I already knew.” Pickett stood, tail curling tighter around his neck as she arched her back and turned around to slowly make her way down his, landing in the dirt and trotting back to the motorhome. When he didn’t follow right away, she turned back to look at him, clearly impatient. Newt laughed and stretched his arms high over his head, back clicking into place, before he turned to follow her back inside. He grabbed his chair and folded it as he walked to the steps and hopped inside, closing the door behind him. He was greeted with a litany of sleepy meows. He quickly made his rounds greeting each of them with a soft kiss on forehead, leaving the chair leaning in the doorway. “We will be back on the road soon.” He promised, kissing the top of the last cat’s head. “Just need to get my coffee and take a photo first, alright?” 

Fran weaved around his ankles while he poured the quickly cooling coffee into his thermos, he really should have filled it before he’d gone outside. He grabbed his camera off the counter and stepped around Fred back to the door. He ignored the small noises of complaint, a fond smile quirking the corner of his mouth, as he opened the door again and stepped into biting early morning chill. The sun was higher now and he squinted against the light. He walked to the barrier and lifted his camera. He carefully snapped a picture of the water, the light gold and white against the water, the sky reflecting pastel pinks and purples. He took another of the sun glinting off the windows of his home. He hopped back in and set his camera on the chair before moving up to the front. He lifted Pickett from his seat and deposited her into the passenger seat, which she quickly left, and dropped into the driver’s seat. He started up the vehicle, fondly named Porpentina, Tina for short, after a childhood friend, wincing as she fought to life. She was old and overused, but he loved her too much to give up on her yet, if he could fix her, there was no point in giving her up. “Come on, you can do it.” He murmured softly. He twisted the key again and after a few stuttering groans she came to life, a fairly steady growl. Newt patted the dashboard, “That’s my girl.” He praised. He let her engine run a few seconds before putting her into drive, “I’m about to move everyone, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He called over his shoulder before letting off the brake and pushing Tina, shuddering, into motion.

 

He carefully pulled her onto the road and pushed harder on the gas to get her moving. He could feel her fighting him, groaning loudly in protest, but eventually she was comfortably going the speed limit, engine quieting to its usual growl. The sun was shining through the window’s now and the cats were quick to cozy up in the spots of sunlight. Newt could see them in the rear view mirror, stretched out or curled in the warm light. He smiled and looked back to the road, admiring the trees, his eyes catching on the birds as they left their nests for the day, stretching their wings in the sunlight. He drove this way for a while, enjoying the view, enjoying the music playing softly over the speakers. This is how many of his days went, easy and slow. Newt found peace in the solidarity of it. He had never been particularly good with people. They generally found him odd, unlikable, and obnoxious. Thankfully, he didn’t mind being on his own, often times, he found comfort in it. His cats felt quite the same way, which was a wonderful bonus.

Tina pulled him from his thoughts with a loud warning noise. He glanced down at the dash, the gas light blinking at him. Newt chewed on his lip and began to pay more attention to the road signs as he passed them, searching for one that would tell him where the nearest city was. He’d likely run out of gas before he got to one which was no big deal, really. Just a walk to the next city and back. He didn’t much like leaving the cats waiting for him, but it wasn’t a problem either.

He watched sadly as the miles available to him ticked down on the gas gauge. That number shrank faster than those on the signs pointing him to the nearest city. He pulled off to the side of the road when Tina started to stutter, engine threatening to shut off. He let her roll forward as far as she could along the side until eventually the engine came to a stop and her tires came to a halt. Newt sighed and put her into park and pulled up the brake. He sat back in his seat and said, “I really should keep a spare canister.” to no one in particular, though someone in the back responded with a meow. “I know, I know.” He took the keys from the ignition and pulled himself up. “I have to leave to get gas…” he sighed, “again… Your water is full, I’ll fill your food, and lock up. I’ll be back soon.” Most of them didn’t acknowledge him, too busy dozing in the sun to pay him much mind. Newt smiled, big and dopey, “Don’t worry everyone, I know you are all incredibly concerned, but I will be very safe.” He lifted Pickett from the chair and kissed her forehead. She put up with that for about three and a half seconds before pushing her paws against his chest to get him away. Newt laughed and let her free. He pulled a curtain over the front window and carefully locked Tina up, checking each window and door. With his wallet and key tucked into the pocket of his jacket and his scarf loosely wrapped around his neck he began the trek to the nearest gas station. 

 

The sun moved slowly across the sky, and the road stretched on. Not many cars passed him, and those that did didn’t slow as they drove by. It was during one of the stretches with few cars that he finally got to a small city. It looked to consist of a bar, a church, a gas station, and little else. Perhaps the rest was hidden somewhere within the small collection of homes, surely there was an inn of some sort. He walked down the slight slope off the road towards the town. Something about it felt strange and he tried to push the feeling away, all he needed was gas. Anything else to do with the town was unimportant. He pulled the door of the gas station and slipped inside.

A woman sat at the counter, her very presence made Newt feel icy. He frowned slightly but fought it away when she looked up and smiled at him, the kindness somehow made him colder. He noticed the worn bible in her lap and pushed away his feelings of unease, he was just passing through, “Hello. I was hoping to buy some gas? My car broke down a few miles up the road.” He motioned vaguely in the direction of Tina.

“It broke down? Oh, you poor thing.” She seemed nice enough, Newt couldn’t quite understand the chill. “I’ll grab you a canister and we can go fill it, my son Credence will drive you back.”

Newt smiled, sincerely surprised by the kindness, more surprised since she had rubbed him in the wrong direction, his first instincts on people were generally right, it didn’t seem to be in this case, “Oh? Thank you. I would really appreciate that, ma’am.”

She set the bible down on the counter and climbed off her stool, “Mary Lou is just fine.” She replied. She lifted a gas canister from behind the counter and walked around the counter towards the door. The radio was chattering softly in the background over the lot and through the store, some sort of talk show. Newt wasn’t paying much attention to it, but Mary Lou was. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

“Sorry?” Newt asked, focusing on her as she fit the gas nozzle into the top of the canister.

“These…homosexuals, running rampant.” She said, disgust dripping from her tone as she took his card and charged him for the gas.

The feelings of unease returned full force and Newt felt ill, “Oh…yes. Disgusting.”

“This country is being overrun by evil.” She continued, apparently unaware of his discomfort, “Sodom and Gomorrah, we too will be wiped from the earth if people don’t start listening.” She shook her head.

Newt fiddled with his keys anxiously and shrugged in response.

“The evil is attacking from all directions. It must be beaten from society before it takes us all down.” She pressed, clearly passionate about the words she spoke. People like this were one of the reasons Newt had been so quick to leave home when he had graduated from high school. “I will give you pamphlets, pass them out on your drive home.” The woman said, capping the gas canister. “Come with me, they are in the church.” She ushered him along, carrying the canister with her and leaving him little choice but to follow.

 

Newt flexed his hands warily, shoved them into his pockets and followed her across the parking lot towards the run down looking church. She pushed her way inside and Newt clenched his hands tighter before forcing himself to follow her in. Lining the walls were posters of varying degrees of severity, attacking all different minorities. Newt didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary. Luckily, she was quick to hand him a thick stack of pamphlets and a small bible. She was talking about something, but Newt was having a hard time catching the words. She eventually turned from him and hollered into the darkness of the church. “Credence! Drive this nice young man back to his car!” there was something cruel and biting to her tone, Newt dropped the fake half smile he’d been holding for the duration of their interaction.

A boy emerged from the shadows, eyes wide and bleary. He looked hollow, brittle, wounded. Newt felt a sharp sense of kinship with him, “Yes, mother.” He said, his voice meek and shaky. Newt’s heart was breaking just watching the interaction.

She took keys from the pocket on her skirt and shoved them at him, “Carry the canister.” She ordered, he was quick to obey.

“Follow me, sir. The car is just outside.” His gaze was lowered, looking past Newt.

Newt cleared his throat and held out his hand to the woman, “Thank you ma’am, I appreciate it.”

She waved him off, “Just remember to spread my message.”

Newt nodded and offered her the best smile he could muster, awkwardly dropping his hand back to his side before following the boy out.

They drove in silence, Credence thrumming his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel and Newt thrumming his against his thigh. The silence was crushing him, heavy and awkward. He was struggling to keep it, but he could hardly think of anything to say that would wouldn’t feel awkward and forced. Finally, Newt found his voice, “What was your name? I don’t think I caught it?”

“It’s…” His voice broke and he tried again, “It’s Credence, Credence Barebone. I’m sorry. I should have said so sooner—” there was anxiety dripping from his words.

“Credence, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Newton Scamander, but Newt is just fine.” He offered him a smile, and got a pained expression in response. The silence fell back over them and to keep himself preoccupied, Newt took to messing with the pamphlets, tearing at them without really thinking about it, glancing over at Credence occasionally. His hands were scarred on the steering wheel and there was the slightest suggestion of scars on his arms where his sleeves slid up, showing his wrists. “Is she…” Newt paused and restarted, “Your mother, is she always that way?” he asked, voice soft.

Credence quickly glanced over before turning his eyes back to the road, “Yes. She…she is very certain that she is…correct.” He shrugged slightly, wincing at the movement of fabric.

Newt was quiet for a moment, “Are you…are you alright here?” He didn’t know how to express what he was thinking or how to offer the help that he wanted to.

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, perhaps too close to home. Credence’s face crumpled slightly, tears welling in his eyes. He blinked them away trying to regain composure and viciously wiped away one that had started down his cheek. “I- yes. Of course. Why would you ask that?” he asked, voice thick.

“It’s—nothing, I’m sorry.” Newt said quickly, messing again with the pamphlets. “That’s T—my car, it’s right up there, the motorhome,” he pointed ahead, the headlights illuminating Tina in the distance.

Credence nodded and drove past, carefully turning around and pulling up behind her. “Here you are, Mister Scamander.”

“Oh, just Newt is fine, thank you.” He hopped out of the car and took the canister from the floor in the back. About to shut the door, he paused, swallowed hard and then asked, “Do you… um…do you like cats?”

Credence blinked a few times, looking back at Newt, confused and scared of answering wrong, “Yes?”

“Would you like to meet mine? They are… a little scared of people, but I have a feeling they would quite like you, Credence.”

Credence was quiet for a few moments, staring at Newt with wide eyes. Newt was almost sure he was going to say no, when he suddenly turned around and put the car into park. He turned it off and pulled out the key in a quick motion before he hopped out and walked to stand near Newt, “Are you sure that’s okay?” he asked, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket.

 

Newt beamed at him, bright and kind, “Of course. I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay.” He shut the door the rest of the way, “I’ll just put the gas in and then I’ll show you.” He opened the gas cover on Tina’s side and carefully tipped the canister to fill her. “This is Tina.” He said, resting his hand on her side, “I bought her in high school, as soon as it was over we left.” He said conversationally, hesitantly opening up about himself, hoping to help Credence feel more comfortable.

Credence looked at the motorhome, eyes wide, unsure what to say. “Why is…why is it called Tina?”

“When I was growing up, Tina was one of the few friends I had. Porpentina and Leta...” He huffed softly, a fond smile on his face when he looked back to Credence. He screwed the cap back into place. “I was not incredibly popular in school.” He unlocked the door and bounced up the stairs to switch on the light, “Come on in.” he invited.

Credence hesitated only a moment before hopping up the stairs to follow him inside. He gasped in surprise and his face hinted at a smile when he saw all of Newt’s cats. One was sitting on the counter at the top of the short stairs, reaching for Newt with a paw. Two were curled together on an arm chair, another one sprawled on the bed, and the final one rubbing up against Newt’s ankle. “Wow… there are so many… What are their names?”

Newt smiled and stepped farther in to let Credence step closer as well. “This little girl is Pickett.” He said, scratching the kitty on the counter behind the ears, “This is Frank.” He motioned to the kitty between his feet, “Over on the bed is Dougal, and the two on the chair are Jacob and Queenie.”

Credence smiled again and held his fingers out to Pickett. Hesitantly, eyes narrowed with suspicion, she leaned forward and sniffed at his fingers, and after a few moments she pressed forward and rubbed against his hand.

Newt raised his eyebrows in surprise, “It seems I was right. She is never that friendly with people.” His comment brought a pleased expression to Credence’s face, something that was nearly content. “Would you like anything to drink? Eat? I have cocoa, coffee, tea…crackers…bread and soup.”

“Uh- tea? Would that be okay?” Credence asked meekly, smiling small and shy at Pickett. She demandingly rubbed against his hand and he gently scratched behind her ear the way he had seen Newt pet her.

“Of course it is.” Newt said kindly, “You can sit down, if you’d like.” He flipped on the small overhead heater and dropped the pamphlets into his garbage bin before setting about making tea, “Chamomile, Lavender, or Peppermint?” he asked, setting a mug on the counter. The water was sitting in a pot on the small stovetop, fighting its way to a boil.

“Chamomile, please.” Credence said quietly, settling on the edge of the bed. Pickett followed him and curled herself on his lap, Fred sniffed at his shoes and rubbed against his ankles. He looked around a bit, Pickett loudly purring in his lap. “Did you take all of these pictures? And draw those?”

Newt smiled, small, crooked, and pleased, “I did!” he poured the hot water over the chamomile tea bag.

“Wow…” Credence breathed, trying to look closer without disturbing Pickett. “How many places have you been to?” he asked, hesitancy behind his words as he accepted the mug from Newt.

“I’ve been all across the country.” Newt pointed to the map behind him, pinned carefully to the wall, “The pins are the places I’ve been. The red pins are places not to go back to, blue is to visit again, white is places where my cats live.”

Credence stared, wide eyed at the plethora of pins, “What made you decide to do this?”

Newt ran his fingers through his hair, “Well uh…I wasn’t living in the friendliest of places. People were…quick to judge. It was…suffocating. I knew that there had to be more. I wanted to find out.” Newt smiled and leaned his back against the counter, arms leaned comfortably against its surface. “It was one of the best decisions I ever made. I don’t regret a moment of it.”

“That’s…that’s really brave.” Credence said quietly, he looked down into the tea cup then looked back to the pictures on the wall. “I don’t think I could ever do that…”

“It isn’t for everyone.” Newt agreed quietly, “but…sometimes there is only so much you can take.” He shrugged and offered Credence a smile.

 

For the first time, Credence smiled back at him, sincere and pleasant. Some of the stiff anxiety in his shoulder slipping away as he sipped at the tea and stroked Pickett’s fur. They sat in a comfortable silence that way for a while. The quiet whir of the heater and the rumble of Pickett’s purr, each holding a warm mug of tea. Credence eventually broke the silence, “Do you agree with my mother?”

Newt didn’t hesitate to answer, “No. At least, nothing she said to me today.” He frowned slightly, “Do you agree with your mother?”

“I…I have to, don’t I? She’s…my mother.”

Newt swallowed hard and shook his head, “No, absolutely you don’t have to agree with her. No.”

“I…I don’t think I agree.” Credence admitted quietly, “It’s…all I’ve known, though? So maybe…maybe it’s what’s true—I have to…” he grimaced and looked hard at the mug in his hands, trying and failing to keep them from trembling.

“Just because it’s all that you’ve known…that doesn’t make it…true or right. If it makes you feel badly about yourself…if it makes you hate yourself then it isn’t true for you. Everyone has their own truths. It isn’t bad to have truths different from your parents.”

Credence frowned at the cup in his hands, “I guess so…” he sighed and gently pushed Pickett off his lap. “I have to go. She will be angry with me. I’m already so late…Thank you, Mist- Newt. Thank you.”

“You can tell her my car was farther than I had realized, and that the battery was dead, so you jumped it for me.” Newt offered with a shrug. “We passed out a pamphlet when someone stopped to see if we needed help. Pretty sure that guy was converted.” He grinned cheekily at Credence, “Blame whatever upsets her on me.”

Credence surprised himself with a laugh. “Thank you. That’ll probably make it better…will you… will you be stopping by town again?”

“I should probably fill Tina up all the way, does the gas station stay open late?”

“I can tell her you’ll be by.” Credence offered, “She liked you, I’m sure she will stay open.”

Newt smiled at him, “Thank you, Credence, I would really appreciate that.”

“Bye Newt…it was good to meet you.” Credence said as he reluctantly made his way down the stairs and onto the gravel, “I like your cats a lot.”

Newt beamed, “They quite liked you too. Drive safe. If you’re at the gas station when I arrive I’ll be seeing you again shortly.”

Credence sighed and smiled back up at Newt, “Yes, maybe.” He waved and the door fell closed as he walked away.

 

 

Not long after Credence had driven away, Newt turned Tina on and pulled her onto the road, Pickett curled up in the passenger seat, dozing off almost immediately. The gas canister had done little to fill Tina’s tank, and it was a relief to see the small town come into view in the distance. He pulled off and into the gas station, carefully parking next to one of the pumps.

Mary Lou was quick to greet him and open the tank. “I was glad to hear that you are already spreading God’s word.” She said appreciatively, “I knew I liked you for a reason.” She praised.

Newt smiled at her sweetly, “Well, it was Credence’s idea, really. A good boy you have there, ma’am.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, looking doubtful and turning rather icy. The gas pump clicked and she pulled it out, putting it away, “Safe travels.” She didn’t sound nearly as sickly sweet as she had before.

Newt glanced around, hoping to see Credence before he left but seeing him nowhere. “Thank you very much ma’am, good luck to you.” He climbed back into the front seat, trying not to feel disappointed. He got Tina running and started from the parking lot, watching Mary Lou disappear back into the gas station. He pulled away and started towards the road when there was a pounding on his window. He slammed on his brakes, slightly panicked and looked over to see Credence. He looked completely a mess. Newt quickly rolled down the window, “Credence—”

“Can I come with you?” he interrupted, eyes red from crying.

“Wh-what?”

“Can I come with you? I can’t—I can’t stay here any longer. You can just drop me off somewhere else. I just need to go—Newt, please—”

“Get in.” Newt said quickly, glancing into the rear view mirror, “Of course you can come.”

Credence let out a sob of relief and threw open the door. He practically fell into the passenger seat, frightening Pickett into the back. “Thank you—Thank you so much.” He choked. He dropped his backpack on the floor at his feet and leaning forward in his seat. He covered his face with his hands and tried to breathe, shoulders shaking with stifled sobs.

Newt put Tina back into drive and started off again, reaching across the middle console to lightly touch Credence’s shoulder, “You’ll be alright.” He said, conviction in his voice.

Credence looked up at him, eyes watery, cheeks tear stained, short of breath. Newt smiled over at him and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. Credence smiled back, chin trembling slightly. He laughed shakily and reached up to touch Newt’s hand, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! You can find me on tumblr at [Turquoise-Candy](http://turquoise-candy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Feel free to leave idea's or prompts of what you'd like to see happen and if I have the time/motivation I will try and write them up! Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello it has been a while.  
> So, this was originally going to be cohesive. It really was. However, my computer ate dust and i lost huuuuuge chunks of it, so mostly it's just going to be drabbles set in the same verse. Just fluff and shit. What I still have mostly just needed to be connected together, so it will still... kind of flow? maybe. If I get the energy to I might go back through and make it flow better, but for now just expect pieces that can kind of just...stand alone in this verse.
> 
> That being said, this is probably a couple weeks after the first bit.
> 
>  
> 
> Unbetaed. possibly all over the place. sorry!

The weather had gone from a late summer chill to a biting winter cold far too quickly. Newt and Credence were travelling north, and it wasn’t long before there were thick layers of icy snow on the ground. The jacket that Credence had brought with him was a rather flimsy one that did very little to keep out the chill. It was flimsy and at least one size too small, perhaps more, tight in the shoulders, a couple inches above his wrists. Credence hadn’t brought much with him, there hadn’t been much to bring, but he was really regretting not grabbing his winter coat. 

Despite the bitter cold, Credence always chose to stand out and watch the sunrise with Newt, the cold snow would melt and seep into his shoes, making them uncomfortably damp. The harsh wind went right through his jacket and to his skin, even with the sweater of Newt’s that he had taken to wearing. He wouldn’t have been able to count how many times Newt had offered to stop and buy him more clothes on one hand, probably not even on both.

It was an especially cold morning. It had snowed in the early evening but had frozen overnight. Every step he took, the snow crunched under his feet and in the places where he sunk farther it would scratch at his ankles. Credence’s breath was fogging the air in great white puffs, and every inhale burned his lungs. But the sunrise was beautiful, and Credence didn’t want to leave Newt’s side. He enjoyed his company, enjoyed the comfortable quiet and enjoyed listening to Newt ramble, even though he sometimes didn’t know what he was talking about. He enjoyed that he didn’t feel like anything was expected of him, Newt didn’t mind if he was quiet, though he seemed to light up even more when Credence would talk back rather than just listen. And Newt seemed to actually care and really listen to the things that Credence had to say, soaking up his quiet, embarrassed opinions and replying as though he had actually listened to every word. It was something that Credence hadn’t ever experienced and sometimes it was a lot, but oh how important it made him feel. So he stood by Newt’s side, wanting to take as much of his sweet attention as he could before Newt tired of him, and he was sure that Newt would tire of him. His mother had always said—but…she had been wrong about many things, Credence wasn’t sure he could yet believe she was wrong on this. She had tired of him, surely everyone else would as well. She was his mother, after all. He held tight to his mug, hot and steaming in his hands. Some kind of tea that Newt had made for him before they went out. He was trying to leech the warmth from the ceramic, letting the steam touch his face, hoping it would keep him warm. It didn’t, really. He was shivering rather violently and hoped that Newt wouldn’t notice it.

Newt noticed, of course he noticed. He always seemed to pay such careful attention to Credence. It made Credence feel…he didn’t really know how it made him feel. It made him feel like crying, but it was so much more than that. Crying was easy. The feelings that Newt lit inside of him were far more complicated. Credence didn’t even know how to begin unravelling them. Newt moved closer, an arm lifted to go around Credence’s shoulders. Credence wasn’t going to look away from the pale blue-to-purple sky, grey clouds, far in the distance, that’s what he was out here for—he looked at Newt.

“Is this alright?” Newt asked. His voice was carefully neutral and there was concern in his eyes. Credence could feel a lump growing in his throat, tears pricking at his eyes. It was from the wind, of course. A simple kindness such as permission wouldn’t make Credence want to cry—that was…that was simply ridiculous. Credence told himself this often.

He hesitated for a few long seconds, Newt patiently watching him, he was tempted to shake his head and mutter an, ‘I’m alright, Mister Scamander, really. It isn’t that cold out here.’ But a particularly strong gust of wind made up his mind. Cheeks burning, he nodded quick. Shoulders hunched in embarrassment, he looked back towards the sky, trying to avoid looking at Newt, though he itched to.  
With the permission Newt moved to stand behind Credence. He gingerly rested his chin on Credence’s shoulder and tugged the edges of the coat around them both. He rewrapped his scarf to fit cozily around Credence’s neck as well as his. “Better?” he asked. His voice was soft and his breath was warm, ghosting the side of Credence’s face and neck. He was hyper aware of where they were touching, the press of Newt’s chest against his back, his chin an almost sharp point against his shoulder. If Credence closed his eyes and focused on it, which he most certainly didn’t do, he could practically feel the rumble of Newt’s voice. He could feel the way the sounds vibrated in his chest before emerging in a soft burst of steam in the cold winter air. A rumbling purr, soft and warm and safe, all in Credence’s head, and Credence wasn’t focusing on it, he wasn’t trying to feel that phantom rumble. He most certainly did not match his breathing to Newt’s, the inhale and exhale, the rise and fall. It made him shiver and it was completely unrelated to the chill. He was so very glad that it could be mistaken for that.

Credence swallowed a growing lump in his throat and nodded. He leaned slightly back against Newt’s chest. “Yes.” His voice sounded thick and almost alien to his ears. He wondered if he had spoken yet this morning. The rasp made him think that he probably hadn’t. Newt tightened his arms around Credence’s waist and rested his chin more comfortably against his shoulder, relaxed against him. Credence tried to steel himself against a sudden rush of fond emotions. Emotions that had been building since Newt had invited him inside to meet his cats. Emotion’s that were overwhelming and confusing, that he simply didn’t know how to handle. They were bad emotions—at least, according to his mother. Those hateful kinds of feelings, full of self-loathing had been instilled so young, they were impossibly hard to push away, and he was disgusted with himself. They remained though, fluttering madly in his stomach like butterflies, or rather like moths, as they were not fluttering in a beautiful way, and they were not the beautiful kind. Rather a kind that fed on rotting things, the kind that would eat his stomach from the inside out and eventually kill him. He could feel them thrashing about whenever Newt was too near, whenever Newt did something too sweet. Those times were the worst, because Credence was so certain that he didn’t deserve that sweetness, and the moths in his stomach seemed to agree with that sentiment. It made him feel rather sick. He wished he knew how to make them leave.

Newt interrupted the spiral in his thoughts, drawing him away from his mother and away from the moths, “Is there anywhere you’ve wanted to go and never been able to?” he asked in a way that sounded too casual.

Credence blinked, trying to register the question, strange to have such a thing asked of him. Finally, he shrugged, a half-hearted reply. The cool light of the sun was trying so hard to chase away the frost. It was reflecting off of the snow and ice almost blindingly white, but in Newt’s hair it reflected gold. Credence couldn’t actually see that right now, with Newt relaxed against his back. Credence wouldn’t have been able to see without turning his head to look at Newt, and well, he couldn’t do that. But he knew that it was. He had seen it, other mornings. It was hard not to look sometimes. Newt looked so lovely in this light, with his reddish-brown hair glowing gold from the sun, messy with sleep. His glasses would be sliding down the bridge of his nose, a slight smudge on the frames and the slightest bit of steam from his tea and the way that his scarf was sometimes wrapped over his nose. Credence would clean them off later, before they started driving. Sometimes he was watching the sun, but often he was just soaking it in. It was cold outside, but somehow Newt could soak in the warmth of the sun like a plant of some sort, leaves turned up to soak it in and feel alive after many hours of chilling darkness. Newt’s nose would likely be red, especially now, as it wasn’t hidden beneath his scarf. Now it would be red, as well as the tips of his ears, maybe his cheeks as well. Red from the cold, not from Credence. That would be absurd.

Newt turned his head slightly to look at Credence, “Cre,”—a nickname that Newt had taken to using on occasion, it made Credence flush red every single time— “the world is yours now. Where would you like to go?” he asked. A smile was twitching at the corner of Newt’s mouth. Newt smiled often, like it was something easy to do. Credence wasn’t sure how he did it and he was almost jealous. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be able to smile so simply. 

Credence turned to meet Newt’s eyes for a few seconds. They were warm and friendly eyes, Newt always looked so fond. They made him dizzy, and they were far too close. He looked away, unable to keep eye contact. They were too kind and too good to be looking at Credence, especially the way that they were. He didn’t deserve to be looked at that way. The snow-capped mountains in the distance were still shadowed, the sun wasn’t high enough yet to cast it’s bright glaring light on that side of them yet. Soon they would be just as blinding as everything else, but Credence thought perhaps Newt would outdo them. He was trying to ignore the anxiety that had filled his chest at being asked a question like this. He was so worried that he might be wrong. This was Newt, though. There wasn’t going to be a wrong answer with Newt. Newt wouldn’t ask him trick questions. Credence could trust him. He knew that he could. Newt wouldn’t force Credence to play that kind of game. “Maybe… somewhere fun…” he said softly, as the silence dragged on and it became more clear that Newt was expecting an answer. He swallowed hard, “I’ve never been to the beach…”

“No?” Newt asked, shifting to look back at the sun as well, which had finally gotten high enough to light up the mountain. The light of it made Credence squint, it was brilliantly beautiful, too much to take in. “We can start driving south. I’m sure Tina would appreciate it, not a fan of the cold.” He said it with such fondness and looked back towards the trailer. 

“If you would like.” Credence replied. His voice was still rough. It was thick with sleep. It was most certainly not the myriad of emotions that Newt stoked to life, continuously filling him with thick black suffocating smoke. It wasn’t because of the emotions that seemed to get jolted to life when Newt listened to him so easily. It wasn’t. A cat had gone to the door and was calling for them from the steps, unwilling to hop out into the snow. Credence was pretty sure that it was Frank, but he didn’t want to turn to see. Doing that would jostle Newt away and nothing in Credence was willing to risk that.  
“I would enjoy that. We can start heading that way today.” Newt said, “I’d hate to put Tina through a drive that long all at once…but it shouldn’t take too long. Depends on if we decide we want to stop anywhere on the way.” Credence hummed softly in reply.

Around them everything was peaceful. With the sun, the birds that hadn’t fled south for the winter were waking up, trilling in the trees. The wind had settled a bit, ruffling Credence’s hair. The meowing persisted from the door, soft and pleading in the background. Without looking, Credence knew that it was making Newt smile in that pleased crooked way of his. Their breath was mingling together, clouds of steam that delicately swirled upwards and dissipated in the cold. The hot tea had cooled and its steam wasn’t quite making it high enough to mix with their breath. With Newt so close and so, so warm, the cold was much easier to ignore. Newt had chased much of the chill away with his coat and scarf, but Credence was sure that just being close to Newt could have melted him. Thinking about it alone, could have thawed him. The fluttering in his stomach had finally slowed to something less destructive, the moths had gotten used to how close Newt was, they were learning to deal with it. Newt’s breath was soft against his cheek. It was distracting. 

Credence could have stood here in this moment forever, he thought. It was unrealistic, he knew, but he wouldn’t have minded it. Eventually, he was the one to break the soft silence that had settled over them. “Shall we have breakfast? I can make it.” 

He could tell that saying this made Newt smile. Credence felt the familiar thrill, the way that his heart quickened, whenever he was the cause of that smile. “I know what this is and I am truly hurt that you don’t want me to make breakfast.” Newt said, based on the tone of his voice, Credence knew that he was smiling in earnest, rather than something small secret smile. It filled him with a flutter of heat, igniting the moths back into flight, fanning the smoke.

“I hate to offend, Mister Scamander—”

“Newt.” He interjected. 

Credence continued on as though he hadn’t, though a smile was fighting at the corners of his mouth, “but you don’t cook pancakes correctly.” Credence said it almost smug, very matter-of-fact, “You have the heat on too high, the outside always burns and the inside never gets cooked at all.”

“I think you just cursed me. It wasn’t always this way.” Newt said, and he burrowed his face closer in the crook of Credence’s neck. Credence’s breath hitched, cheeks heating, and if Newt noticed he didn’t say anything about it, which Credence was grateful for.

“You didn’t have any pancake mix before we bought it. I bet you only had toast every morning.” Credence said, voice the slightest bit hoarse. Newt didn’t comment on that either.

“You wound me, Credence.” Newt replied with a laugh.

“You don’t deny it.” Credence pointed out, smiling in spite of himself, “That prides it.” It was rare that Credence would tease this way, always too worried that Newt would be upset. Even now anxiety was making his head swim. Newt was yet to react in anyway other than with kindness, sometimes a brilliant grin because somehow it pleased him, but it still made Credence incredibly nervous. He tried not to be, but it was something he couldn’t push away. His mother would have shouted at him.

“It proves nothing.” Newt said, feigning offense in a way that was so comical and exaggerated that Credence suspected he was hamming up how he would normally react for Credence’s sake, so that Credence would know he was teasing, to help keep him from worrying while still playing that way. He didn’t know how Newt always seemed to be able to tell when he was starting to spiral in that direction, but he appreciated it more than he would ever be able to express, of this he was fairly certain.

Credence pulled away, the cold instantly getting to him when he was out of the protection of Newt’s coat. He hadn’t realized it had been so chilly. He turned to Newt, smiling something shy, “thank you…for sharing your coat.” He ran his fingers through his hair, anxious and nervous, always anxious and nervous, his cheeks flushed pink.

Newt smiled back at him and tugged the coat back closed, “of course, Credence.” His cheeks were flushed as well, and the smallest part of Credence felt an incredibly confusing flicker of hope, but the rest of him insisted it was just the cold. Nothing else. Just the cold.

Credence felt his eyes drawn down lower, to Newt’s mouth, still a lopsided smile, and Credence…Credence wanted. He felt his cheeks flush darker and quickly looked away, “Pancakes” the word was slurred in his rush to get through it, hoping desperately that Newt wasn’t able to read minds. He turned, stumbling in his haste to get back to Tina. He took off his shoes in the doorway and hit them together out over the ground to get as much snow off as he could then left them in the stairwell to thaw out. The warmth from inside was already starting to melt them on the linoleum flooring. His ankles were red from the cold and the scratch of the snow. Frank was looking angry at how abruptly Credence had entered, but Credence supposed you couldn’t please everyone. He really couldn’t bring himself to care too much. He would try and make it up to the angry orange cat later, but for now he was trying not to panic about how desperately he had wanted to kiss Newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
>  I have about.... 20 more pages of partial drabbles like this, so I should hopefully be uploading quite a few soon here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter bit, sorry!

They started heading south. Newt rambled a bit about what way he thought would be fastest and often apologized to Credence for the length the drive was to be. Credence tried to assure him he didn’t mind. He didn’t. They could do nothing. Credence wouldn’t mind at all. He was just grateful to be kept around. 

It was getting warmer the farther south they got. There were long stretches of land that hadn’t yet been touched by snow, and places where the sun could fight through the cold and warm Credence up through the chilled air. Credence spent a lot of time sprawled on Newt’s bed, the sun shining through the glass and warming him up while Newt drove. A book in his lap, Newt singing softly from the front, a cat pressed up against his back. Credence wondered if it was possible to feel more content, in those moments.

One of these warmer days was the reason Newt decided to pull off the road far earlier than they usually stopped. The sun was starting to get low, but the air was still warm and the fields off the side of the interstate were golden and begging to be photographed. As they pulled off, the gravel making for a bumpy stop, Credence sat up, bleary-eyed and confused, “What are we stopping for?” He asked, pulling himself from bed and walking to the front, socked-feet soft and light against the floor.

“I thought it might be nice.” Newt replied, taking out the keys and swinging his legs off the side of his chair. He was in Credence’s space, a bit, and Credence quickly remedied it by backing away, looking a little flustered. “Would you like to come out with me?” Newt asked as he slipped past Credence to retrieve his jacket and camera.

Credence lit up at being invited and nodded. He disappeared up to his bunk and Newt went outside, camera around his neck, to put the stoppers in front of Tina’s tires to keep her parked for the night. Credence hopped down the stairs, bundled in one of Newt’s coats. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Newt couldn’t help but watch as Credence made his way around the cement barrier and into the tall golden grass, looking sleep ruffled and beautiful. He could hardly tear his eyes away from the way that the setting sun reflected golden on Credence’s hair. He finished setting Tina’s tires for the night and propped open the door before he followed Credence around the barrier, laughter bubbling in his chest as he watched Credence spin around in the tall grass. He could see the print left from the blanket on Credence’s cheek from where he stood. Jacob and Queenie, the inseparable duo were tempted by the grass and warmth, peeking out of the propped door, making soft chirping noises at Newt. Normally he would have responded, carried them out with him, but he was far too distracted by Credence, and the camera against his chest was almost demanding he snap a picture of the scene. It was too beautiful and serene to pass up.

Credence tilted his face towards the sun, a rare easy smile on his face. Newt snapped a picture, and another as Credence looked his way, cheeks flushing when he realized that Newt was taking his photo. Newt grinned at him, not apologetic in the least. He set his camera carefully down on the barrier, then headed in Credence’s direction. His chest felt fluttery and light, and it struck him, not for the first time, how lucky he was to have Credence in his life. He joined Credence in the tall grass and on an impulse that surprised him even as he did it, he took Credence’s hands and spun him around, the laughter bubbling forth at last, a grin on his face. His feet tangled in the grass, and he toppled them both over, which set them both to more laughter. Their laughter startled the cats back into the safety of the motorhome, though neither of them could have noticed.

“It's very warm out today.” Credence said as he sat up and looked back to the sky. 

“It looks like you’re still cold to me.” Newt teased, tugging at the blanket around Credence’s shoulders and looking up at him from where he still lay in the grass, his smile dopey. His cheeks were heated slightly. His eyes were perhaps showing a bit too much of what he was feeling

“But not as cold as usual!” Credence argued, cheeks turning pink when he looked back at Newt, “It’s nice out.” He corrected himself.

It was incredibly rare for Credence to be in a brave enough mood that he would talk back, and every time he was Newt was absolutely thrilled. Credence would always get nervous after, looking as though he expected Newt to snap at him for his tone. It broke Newt’s heart. So he’d respond with a cheeky grin and a laugh to ease Credence’s worries. “I knew what you meant, I was just teasing.” He said sincerely. Some of the stiffening anxiety in Credence’s shoulder eased away and he looked back towards the sky, the clouds rolling off in the distance and the sun slowly sliding lower in the sky. Credence was utterly picturesque. “Your hair has grown out a bit.” Newt said, looking fondly up at Credence. His thick inky hair was growing past his ears, around his cheeks and the base of his neck, curling at the ends. Newt quite liked it.

Credence looked back to Newt quickly and brought a hand to his hair, gingerly messing with some of the pieces at his neck, he looked rather nervous, which Newt couldn’t understand, “Is it bad?” he asked quietly.

“Oh God—No, not at all.” Newt said quickly, now understanding the nervous look on Credence’s face. “It's lovely.” he felt his skin flush in embarrassment and cringed internally at the bluntness of his statement.

This made Credence blush, “Thank you... My mom never let it get very long. I... I like it.” A small embarrassed but pleased smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Newt could feel his heart pounding in his chest, or maybe he could hear it. He couldn’t tell.

“I like it too.” Newt reached out as though he was going to run his fingers through Credence’s hair, and if he was going to be honest with himself, that’s exactly what he had wanted to do. He stopped himself and ruffled it instead. He was stuck on some of the many things that he liked about Credence, from his growing curls to his dark eyes, his lips. And Newt absolutely adored the way that his coat looked on Credence, the worn material looked even softer on him. His lips. Newt pushed himself up from the grass, forcefully putting an end to that train of thought. He didn’t need it to go any farther, he knew where that led. He knew he had probably been staring and he cleared his throat, looking away, “Is there anything you would like to eat tonight?” he asked, pushing himself to his feet.

Credence had a look on his face that Newt struggled to place. He looked almost put out, but there was something akin to fear there as well. This was a fairly common expression on Credence, but it had been a little while since he had seen it so plainly. It made him feel sick that he had a part to play in bringing that expression back to Credence’s face. “My choices consist of soup and bread?” Credence asked, derailing Newt’s thoughts. There was something almost teasing in Credence’s tone, hidden under dozens of layers of anxiety. Speaking back to someone he considered superior to him. It wasn’t surprising, but Newt so wanted it to fade completely. Equals. They were equals.

Newt huffed a laugh and stuck out his tongue at Credence, “Excuse you, we bought noodles! And cheese!” he said, fighting for the dignity of his cupboards contents. He held his hand down to Credence in an offer to help him to his feet.

“I’m still certain you lived on toast and tea before you picked me up. I’m not sure how you’re living. We need fruits, vegetables. I don’t know how you’ve lived so long on nothing.” Credence said with a shake of his head. He accepted Newt’s hand and stumbled slightly into Newt as he was pulled to his feet. He kept talking over the offended noise Newt made, “We could do grilled cheese and soup?” he asked, and that was another tease. It was buried but Newt knew that it was there. Some weeks ago Newt had scalded a pot of soup his was making. Tina had smelled for days afterwards. Credence was really on one. Newt was elated.

Newt steadied him, “sounds good to me.” He said with a smile. He was still holding one of Credence’s hands. Rather unwillingly, he drew away.

“I’ll watch the soup this time.” Credence chirped 

Back inside Tina, Credence was methodically making soup, which Newt found endearingly ridiculous and unnecessary, you couldn’t go very wrong with canned soup, but Credence always took a lot of care with the things that he did. Newt hooked his camera up to the small printer and printed off the picture of Credence. He hung it up along the wall, taking down a picture of a sunset and boxing it. 

When Credence noticed while they sat at the small table eating soup and sandwiches, he turned a satisfying shade of scarlet and muttered and embarrassed, “I’m not a sunset, Mister Scamander.”

Newt grinned cheekily back at him, “You could have fooled me, Credence.”  
This made Credence’s flush even darker and nearly made him choke on his soup. He didn’t mention the picture again, but looked at it occasionally, reigniting his blush every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Sorry if I missed any typos!! If there's anything you'd like me to write let me know! I'll do my best to fill requests.
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr! You can find me at [Turquoise-Candy](http://turquoise-candy.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

Newt hadn’t celebrated Christmas or any other winter holiday in a very, very, long time. Usually the season came and went and he barely noticed it. This year, with the icy weather and Credence on his mind, Newt recognized an opportunity to treat him and have an excuse for it, that hopefully, Credence wouldn’t deny him. It felt like a battle, almost, trying to get Credence to accept things from him, be it as simple as a notebook or anything more extravagant. Credence didn’t feel he deserved it. But…but in the spirit of Christmas, perhaps he would accept a gift. Newt hoped he would accept a gift.

Credence, of course, had no way of knowing that Newt didn’t celebrate the holidays. He hadn’t been around long enough to know and asking hadn’t crossed his mind. So, when Newt started decorating Tina with more fairy lights and had gone out to buy real food, Credence thought nothing of it. It was likely just how he celebrated the holidays, a meal made from something that wasn’t canned or out of a box, cookies, more holiday lights. And anyways, Credence was quite excited to bake cookies with Newt, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual meal, something of a rare beast, living with Newt on the road. 

The area in which to make cookies was not a large one, it would have been, in retrospect, far easier to put down the table and work there instead of trying to crowd around the counter, but crowd around it they did. 

“It would have been easier to just buy cookie dough, Mister Scamander.” Credence said innocently, while Newt tried to fish eggshell from their too liquidy batter. 

“Credence…Credence, cookies made from scratch are superior.” Newt replied, his brow was furrowed with concentration, and then his expression changed to one of triumph as he finally caught the last bit of shell. He flicked it off his finger into the waste basket and turned back to the bowl. “More flour?” he asked after a moment. Credence obediently moved the flour bag closer to the bowl and Newt reached in for a handful of it. “Thank you” he chirped as he dropped the handful into the batter.

“It would probably have been easier if we had actually followed the recipe.” Credence pointed out, leaning his hip against the counter and looking at Newt. The oven had already beeped several times to let them know and then remind them again, and again, that it was heated and ready to be used. Flour was lightly dusting almost every surface, including Newt’s hair and glasses. Credence assumed that it was covering him as well.

“This is an art.” Newt said stubbornly, “We don’t need to be exact, we just…need it to work.” He grinned over at Credence. In a quick unexpected movement, he tossed a bit of flour against Credence’s chest. 

Credence stood stalk still for a few seconds, stunned and unsure what to do. He met Newt’s eyes, finding the smile in them, a twinkle of mischief. Credence thought, perhaps, he understood. He reached into the bag of flour, the slightest tremor in his hand, and tossed a handful back at Newt. He watched it explode in a small cloud in the center of Newt’s face. He saw it drift down and settle on Newt’s neck, on his collar bones, barely visible over the drooping neck of his garish holiday sweater. 

Newt was laughing. It was bright and pleased, but it took Credence a moment to realize this. He was stuck somewhere between thoughts of, ‘what if that’s not what I was meant to do’ and scolding himself for his thought’s wandering in another direction entirely. He was tugged back to the moment when a hand landed on his cheek, firm, but not hard—and flour, a cloud of it filling the air, the slight strange cold of it rolling down his neck, Newt’s hand, his fingertips, anyways, warm against his cheek, flour falling down the neck of his shirt. Newt was grinning, specs of flour were dusting his eyelashes. Credence couldn’t look away.

Though Credence was entranced and stuck, Newt, it seemed, couldn’t keep eye contact and he looked away after only a couple of seconds, cheeks pink even under the dusting of flour covering his skin. “As I said—” he cleared his throat, everything about him suddenly exuding a nervous thrum of awkward embarrassment, “We just need it to work. If we can get the right texture and we can get it to taste good, we’ve got it!”

Credence tried not to mourn the absence of Newt’s hand on his cheek, butterflies rampant in his stomach, “It would be easier to achieve both of those things with a recipe.” He said, sticking to his argument for the sake of it, rather than because he minded trying to invent cookies with Newt. He thought that he would rather like to do it every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t think he’d even complain. He wouldn’t have had anything to complain about, really. It sounded like a dream. Everything about the past several weeks felt like a dream. More than he deserved. He worried some mornings as he was waking up, everything still soft and muffled, that he was going to wake up in his old bedroom, a large cross on the wall looking down at him. All of it imagined. Undeserved. Newt brought him back to the present by pressing a lump of dough to his lips. “Try it. I think we’ve got it, Credence.” Newt was grinning brightly, though there was still a flush to his cheeks. Whatever awkwardness he’d been feeling he seemed to have brushed off.

Credence stared at the dough for a few moments, trying to register what Newt was saying to him. Finally, he opened his mouth and Newt popped it into his mouth. It was still warm from Newt’s hands. Credence flushed under Newt’s scrutiny as he chewed and swallowed. He cleared his throat and broke eye contact. “I think you’re right.” Newt beamed and Credence’s chest filled with warmth.

\---

Tina’s windows were cracked open to let out some of the heat from baking. A winter chilled wind rustled the curtains, made photographs flutter slightly where they were pinned to the walls. But Credence still felt hot and flustered. He couldn’t pull his thoughts away from Newt. It was like a magnet, every turn his thoughts took brought him right back. He couldn’t help from watching Newt’s hands like a man entranced while he frosted one of the cookies at the table. He couldn’t keep himself from drifting closer so that their shoulders would brush as they moved around each other in the small space of the kitchen. 

Part of Credence was screaming that he was only feeling this way about Newt because they’d been spending so much time together. That he only felt this way because Newt had saved him. He knew that that sort of thing happened a lot. He’d read about it. Part of him knew that it was more, though. He’d been drawn to Newt the moment he’d met him. He’d forced the feelings away. He’d ignored the way that Newt made his heart pound and his skin tingle like there was electricity running through his veins. He didn’t want to ignore that, not anymore. It was becoming too much. Newt was so close, and he was so beautiful. There was a smear of pale blue frosting on his cheek, and Credence could still see the flour dusted on his skin and lashes, through his hair. Credence didn’t want to stay away anymore. He wondered if he’d ever really wanted to. 

It could be mutual. He wanted so desperately to be mutual. He couldn’t have been imagining all of it, could he? He couldn’t have been imagining the way Newt looked at him sometimes, like he was something precious. Or the way Newt’s touch lingered sometimes. The way Newt would occasionally brush against him. It had to mean something. Newt kept stealing worried glances at him. Credence could see the internal battle Newt was fighting on whether to ask him if something was wrong.

Credence didn’t know for sure, but it might have been Christmas. Tina was warm despite the winter chill seeping in through the windows and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. The cats were sprawled on Newt’s bed, an audience to the dance that Credence and Newt had been skirting around for months. On a frightening impulse Credence grabbed Newt’s sleeve. His breathing was shallow with nervous anxiety and his eyes fell to Newt’s worry bitten lips. He let out a shaky exhale and licked his own lips before looking up at Newt’s eyes, wide and questioning. “Can I kiss you?” Credence asked in a breathy rush. The question sat for a few long seconds out in the open. Music from the stereo was trickling back. It seemed to be doing its best to keep the silence from getting too overwhelming. In Credence’s opinion, it was doing a very poor job of it. 

Newt’s eyes widened marginally, surprised with the boldness. He looked down at Credence’s lips, and Credence could see the flush on his cheeks. The room felt hotter and the quiet seemed like it would never end. It was stifling and Credence was sure it would suffocate him and he would be dead before he got an answer. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds, but it felt like years to Credence, who felt as though he’d laid months of feelings out bare. He was horrified that he had had the gall to ask such a stupi- 

“Yes” Newt breathed, derailing Credence’s downward spiral. He moved a little bit closer and meet Credence’s eyes, embarrassed and elated. “Yes, absolutely, Credence.” 

So he did.

Credence was hurried and unpracticed, he’d only kissed a couple times before, he didn’t know what he was doing. Could hurried kisses brimming with guilt even be considered practice for this? This was slow, this was safe. This was Newt. Sweet Newt, who slowed Credence’s skittish panicked rush with a soft touch to his cheek. He drew him slowly back, soft and gentle with his kisses. It was a sharp contrast to the original almost bruising crush of their first one. He had Credence seeing fireworks. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was gripping tight to Newt’s sleeves. He was simultaneously drowning and flying. It was elating. He never wanted it to stop. He didn’t know how he had possibly been living before he’d felt Newt’s lips on his. 

They had to part eventually. Newt was beaming and he let out a breathless laugh when Credence mirrored the expression. “Where did that come from?” he asked eventually. He brushed another feather light kiss against Credence’s lips. He seemed elated to be able to do so. He smiled even brighter when Credence eagerly chased after the kiss and exhaled another soft laugh.

“I’ve… I’ve wanted to for…a while.” Credence admitted when they parted again. His skin was tingling and flushed. He couldn’t keep himself from grinning. He wanted to do this again and again. Even Mary Lou’s poisonous words were pushed far from his mind for now.

Newt rested his forehead against Credence’s. There was a blush high on his cheeks and his eyelashes were casting shadows. Credence could have counted his eyelashes, his freckles, if he’d wanted to. “I’m glad that you did.” Newt breathed. “I’d thought that maybe…” he trailed off and shook his head, smiling again, “I couldn’t really be sure. I didn’t want to make assumptions—” Credence silenced his nervous ramblings with another shy kiss. Newt laughed again, pleased with the bold move. He was full of surprises this evening. “Sorry.” He murmured, lips brushing against Credence’s as he spoke, “I’ve wanted to for some time as well, is what I meant.” Credence felt like he was soaring. He knew that he couldn’t possibly have done anything to deserve this, but Newt was pressing another kiss to his lips. Credence could feel the shakiness in him as he exhaled and he could feel Newt’s breath against his mouth. He leaned into the kisses, unable to quell his smile. He didn’t deserve this, but oh God, he loved it. He wished he’d asked sooner. 

Newt’s mouth was warm and insist and sweet against his. Credence was melting against Newt. He was pliant and more than willing to open under Newt’s soft kisses, and that was even better. It was so much better. Newt tasted of cookies and icing and Credence was pretty sure he was more than a little bit in love with him. He thought that maybe, he had been for a long time. None of the other kisses he’d shared could even hold a candle to this. 

He found himself eagerly pressing into the kisses, backing Newt against the counter, egged on by the soft pleased noises Newt was making and the way he was grinning into the kisses, his hands settled light on Credence’s hips, thumbs tracing soft circles against where his bone jutted slightly, fingers soft through the fabric of his shirt. It was intoxicating. Credence was lost.

The oven eventually forced them apart. It was incessantly beeping in the background. Credence wanted to ignore it. The cookies didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except having Newt’s mouth against his. He whispered as much when Newt finally broke this kiss. He moved away to let Newt take the tray from the oven. Newt’s lips were red and kiss bitten. Credence wondered if anything was more beautiful. He wondered if he’d be allowed to find out. 

The cotton soft quiet that had fallen over them was broken and the world slowly started turning again. Newt was humming along to whatever was playing on the radio as he took out the second tray of cookies. He looked to Credence as he scooped the cookies onto a plate, and when their eyes met Newt grinned. The look on his face, the pleased crinkle to his eyes had Credence feeling dizzy. He trailed closer to Newt and kissed him again, delighting in the pleased noise Newt made. When the broke apart Newt lifted a warm sugar cookie to his lips which Credence willingly took a bite of. 

“Happy Holidays, Credence.” Newt murmured, his expression was enraptured as he brushed a strand of dark hair from Credence’s eyes.

“Thank you.” Credence breathed back, and Newt was kissing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this will probably be the last instillation. It's possible I'll add more sometime in the future? But I'm not sure. Feel free to let me know if there's anything you'd like to see and if I have the motivation I'll try and write it, though!  
> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> You can find me on tumblr at [Turquoise-Candy](http://turquoise-candy.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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